


Of Love and Other Things

by toyhto



Series: An Old Fling [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A sequel to Building a House, Alternate Universe, But they're mostly happy, Established Relationship, Guys they can communicate now!, Jaskier brings Geralt home to meet his family, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: In which Jaskier brings his new boyfriend home.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: An Old Fling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626970
Comments: 32
Kudos: 162





	Of Love and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to [Building a House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617481/chapters/54052966).
> 
> I don't usually write Established Relationship stories because you know, the best part of a story is the build-up before the first kiss. But I've grown so fond of this AU setting and I just couldn't miss the chance to write a story in which Jaskier and Geralt go to live with Jaskier's family. So, this is a story about figuring out how to live with your lover AND his whole extended family. Also, this is a story about a garden, a very heavy wardrobe, a cat called Buttercup, and sex.
> 
> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

There had been three basilisks in the crypt near to the town. The bomb had killed one of them, and the two left had attacked blindly. Geralt had killed the first with his silver sword, but the other had bitten him in the arm before he had managed to throw it to the wall with the Aard sign. After that, he had simply pierced it with his sword.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, staring at him over the table, “no, that’s not how you told the story to me, Geralt.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “That’s how it happened.”  
  
“But you’re making it sound so dull,” Jaskier said, staring at him disapprovingly, as if _dull_ was a bad thing when it came to monsters. “When you first told me the story, it was much more exciting.”  
  
“That was because you kept adding words in it,” Geralt said. “And also I still had the wound on my arm bleeding.”  
  
Jaskier cleared his throat. Geralt stared at him over the table, then took a deep breath and turned to face Jaskier’s… well, he thought she was Jaskier’s cousin. Or maybe Jaskier’s cousin’s wife. Or daughter. “Anyway, it was much more exciting than I’ve managed to make it sound. All those… basilisks. In the… crypt. And there was blood. Much blood.” He smiled at the women even though it made him feel like his cheeks were about to crack like an old stone. Then he turned to look at Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier was smiling at him. Just a little, just enough that no one else probably noticed.  
  
“So, that happened just two days ago,” Jaskier said, and Geralt took a deep breath. Maybe Jaskier would talk for a moment and he wouldn’t have to. “Just before he came here. He’s been busy the whole summer, hunting monsters.”  
  
“That’s…” Jaskier’s cousin’s wife’s daughter started and then looked around as if looking for backup. “That’s delightful.”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said.  
  
“Yes, he likes his job very much,” Jaskier said. “That’s how we met, actually. The peasants in Upper Posada asked him to take care of a devil that was stealing their grain, and I followed him and we got kidnapped by the elves. That was nice.”  
  
Everyone at the table turned to look at Jaskier. Geralt was happy that they stopped staring at him for a second.  
  
“Well, obviously it wasn’t _nice_ ,” Jaskier said. “But that’s how we met, so it ended happily. And it’s been fifty years since that happened, so I’ve kind of forgotten about the bad parts.”  
  
“And did you say you’re going to stay here?” asked the man who was Jaskier’s nephew or something. “For the winter?”  
  
Everyone turned to look at Geralt, and he tried to look like someone who might want to stay in a nice little town for a winter with his man, someone who liked quiet life and didn’t have two swords at a hand’s reach even now. He had told Jaskier that it was just a habit. Having his swords with him made him feel safer in difficult situations like a family gathering certainly was going to be. Jaskier had looked at him as if he couldn’t remember why he put up with Geralt.  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “Yes, we’re staying. Geralt will travel when he wants to, but he’ll come back.”  
  
There was a deep silence in the room. Jaskier looked at Geralt, and Geralt wanted to say that yes, he would come back. Sometimes all he could think about was why the hell Jaskier put up with him, but as long as Jaskier did, he would come back. If Jaskier wanted him to eat dinners with his whole extended family and tell stories about the monsters he had slayed, he would do that.  
  
“The town seems lovely,” he said. It seemed like any other town, really, but Jaskier smiled at him, so it was definitely worth it.  
  
“Well, we’re happy to have you here,” said the girl who was sitting next to Jaskier. She was Jaskier’s… Geralt didn’t have a clue who she was. Probably she was someone’s something. All of them were. “We missed Jaskier so much when he was away.”  
  
Jaskier almost grinned.  
  
“I can believe that,” Geralt said. “I have enjoyed his company. A lot.”  
  
Jaskier blushed.  
  
“Did I tell you about the time when I slayed a griffin?” Geralt asked. “I took my sword and… slayed it.”  
  
“There were details, though,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “Details.” But he couldn’t remember any. It had probably been a day. Or a night. Or something in between. Had he already mentioned that he had used a sword?  
  
“Well, anyway,” Jaskier said and turned to the girl sitting next to her, “Marta, did you find that shovel you were looking for yesterday? Because I noticed there was one in the flower bench.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip and made sure he still had his both swords at a hand’s reach.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“It went well,” Jaskier said, slowly pulling off his clothes. Geralt was watching his hands. He had been travelling alone for two weeks, until yesterday. He hadn’t _forgotten_ what it was like to look at Jaskier’s fingers fumbling with the laces, but the memory had gotten a little dusty.  
  
“It didn’t go well,” he said, watching Jaskier’s hands.  
  
“You don’t get to decide that. I say that it was fine, so it was. They are my family.” Jaskier was quiet for a moment. “They are yours now, too.”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Are you planning to live with me or not?”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath and looked Jaskier in the eyes. “Yes. You won’t get rid of me.”  
  
“Well, then they are our family,” Jaskier said. “I want to share them with you. You don’t need to like them, of course, I know liking people isn’t your strongest suit.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“But that’s the thing about family, whether you like them or not, you’re stuck with them.” Jaskier folded his clothes on the back of a chair and then slowly climbed to the bathtub. “Are you coming?”  
  
“Are you sure? It’ll be cramped.”  
  
“I’ve missed bathing with you.”  
  
Geralt had missed bathing with Jaskier as well. He took off his clothes and got to the bath, and Jaskier’s knees cracked as he folded them to make room for Geralt. Geralt put his hand on one of the said knees and stroked his thumb on the inside of Jaskier’s thigh. Last night, it had been past midnight when he had ridden through the village and finally found the right house. He had knocked on the door for at least five minutes before one of Jaskier’s relatives had come to open it, the girl with the red hair and sharp eyes.  
  
 _You must be Jaskier’s man,_ she had said. Then she had grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled him in. _Don’t just stand there, come in. He’s upstairs. He’s been missing you. He doesn’t say it, but we can tell. Why do you stink of blood?_  
  
Geralt had stunk of blood, because he had still had the basilisks’ blood all over his armor, and the wound on his chest had been bleeding a little through the wrappings. It had felt difficult to explain that, so he had only grunted at the girl. The girl had brought him to Jaskier quickly enough, and Jaskier had hugged him before complaining about the smell.  
  
Every time he came back to Jaskier, it was a little easier. This summer, he had travelled by himself almost as much as he had been with Jaskier. He knew Jaskier wasn’t exactly happy about that and he wasn’t either, but whenever he spent too much time at home, he grew so restless he didn’t know what do with it. He had to go and slay monsters. That was what he had always done.  
  
But the first time, early in the summer when he had been away for a week and then come back to Jaskier to their tiny house at the coast, he had been sure Jaskier wouldn’t take him back. The next time, he had had some doubts. Now he had gotten used to the idea that he could go back to Jaskier and Jaskier would kiss him and complain about his injuries.  
  
“What’re you thinking about?” Jaskier asked now.  
  
“Last night,” Geralt said. Jaskier had undressed him and cleaned his wound and changed the wrapping, and he had sat quietly and felt the familiar touch of Jaskier’s fingers.  
  
“What about it?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice.  
  
Geralt knew Jaskier wasn’t upset that Geralt couldn’t stop hunting monsters. Jaskier was upset that he couldn’t come with Geralt, and somehow that made it both easier and harder. “It was good, coming back to you.”  
  
Jaskier grinned.  
  
“Not only because of that.” Geralt smiled a little, because he knew Jaskier would love it. “But I didn’t mind the treatment, either.”  
  
“ _The treatment._ ”  
  
“What would you call it instead?”  
  
“I would call it –,” Jaskier paused, “- a blowjob.”  
  
Geralt shook his head. “You’re always so blunt. I’m going to blush.”  
  
“I wish.”  
  
“You know I would have happily returned the favor.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, but his voice was still soft and easy. Sometimes talking about this seemed to upset him, so Geralt tried not to mention it. But he couldn’t stop hoping that some day he could give to Jaskier everything Jaskier was giving him.  
  
“You could just let me touch you,” Geralt said slowly, “if you wanted me to. I don’t mind if you can’t get hard. I don’t mind if you can’t come, or of course I wish you would but… it’s okay. If you want me to, I don’t know, just to touch you –“  
  
“I mind,” Jaskier said and tilted his head to the side. “You can kiss me, though.”  
  
“Right now?”  
  
“Maybe in bed. When our knees aren’t on the way.”  
  
Geralt nodded. He would kiss Jaskier in the bed, and he would do it just the way Jaskier liked it. Jaskier would forget about both of their dicks for a moment.  
  
“I want your family to like me,” he said instead.  
  
“Well, I think they will,” Jaskier said, watching him, “but you aren’t on a trial here, Geralt.”  
  
“It felt a bit like a trial. At the dinner table.”  
  
Jaskier swallowed. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, I didn’t mean that. I meant… I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”  
  
“I’m just trying to show you off,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, brushing his ankle against Geralt’s thigh. “I’m trying to show off with my new boyfriend who has cool swords and can slay monsters.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “Your new boyfriend? And who is that?”  
  
Jaskier smiled at him and poked at him at the thigh with his toes. He kept his thoughts in check. “Anyway,” Jaskier said, “Marta said earlier that we could help her with the garden tomorrow. Is that okay?”  
  
“Marta?”  
  
“She sat next to me at the table. Red hair and freckles.”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“She’s my sister’s granddaughter.”  
  
“Of course,” Geralt said. Jaskier had two siblings, a brother and a sister, but they had both died years ago. “I don’t know anything about gardens.”  
  
“Well, that’s good, because she wants to tell us what to do anyway. Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I hope you know how much I appreciate it,” Jaskier said, watching him, “that you’re doing this for me.”  
  
Geralt wanted to tell him that he was doing nothing. On the contrary, he was _taking_ everything Jaskier gave him – a home, a family, his hand at night when they were in bed. He was taking it all and all that he had to give back was stories about monsters, and he couldn’t even put details in those.  
  
“Do you want to get to the bed?” Jaskier asked.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
When they were in bed, he kissed Jaskier until Jaskier wrapped his fingers around his cock. Then he stopped. Only last night, he had come in Jaskier’s mouth and afterwards, everything Jaskier had let him do had been to hold him in his arms. He didn’t want to just take and take and take. He held Jaskier’s wrist and slowly pulled Jaskier’s fingers away, and then he kissed all the way down on Jaskier’s throat and chest, until at his navel, he stopped.  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked, stroking his hair. Jaskier seemed to like touching his hair, so he had taken a habit of tying it so that Jaskier could free it. He was glad that there was at least _something_ he could give Jaskier, even if it was something as stupid as _hair._ “Talk to me, Geralt. You know I’d be happy to-“  
  
He kissed the old scar on Jaskier’s stomach. He didn’t know how Jaskier had got the scar. That had happened when they had been apart and Jaskier had had a life without him.  
  
He hadn’t asked much about how Jaskier had spent those years, because every time Jaskier talked about the man he had lived with, Geralt got jealous. Just a little. And he knew it was ridiculous. He had never met the man. There had never been a competition. He had pushed Jaskier away from him and Jaskier had lived for decades without him. Everything he had missed he had brought on himself. And he hated that he was so stupid and jealous that he wanted to take even this from Jaskier, the love Jaskier had had when Geralt had been alone and living without him.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said slowly, stroking his hair.  
  
“All the things you do for me,” he said and knelt over Jaskier. “Sometimes it’s a lot.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Jaskier said, “absolutely nothing.”  
  
Geralt swallowed. “Can you hold me if I do it myself?”  
  
Jaskier nodded. “You don’t have to, though.”  
  
“Yes, I know, I just…” But he couldn’t finish it, so he kissed Jaskier instead. Jaskier answered his kiss like he always did, and Geralt tried not to wonder when he would run out of it. One day, he would run out of Jaskier’s love and maybe then Jaskier would see him for what he was: someone who had done very little in his very long life. Almost a hundred and fifty years, and the only ones who had ever needed him were Jaskier and Ciri, no, _had been_ Jaskier and Ciri. Ciri didn’t need him anymore.  
  
“Come on,” Jaskier said and touched Geralt’s dick again.  
  
He didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want Jaskier to realize he didn’t need Geralt after all. He kissed Jaskier once more and then lifted him so that they were both sitting in the bed, Jaskier leaning against the wall and Geralt in between his thighs. Jaskier liked his back and Jaskier liked his hair, and Jaskier liked it when Geralt couldn’t see his dick. Geralt closed his eyes, wrapped his fingers around his own and started with a hasty pace, and Jaskier muttered incomprehensible things to his hair and to his neck.  
  
He didn’t want to regret things. He was too old for that. If he started regretting, there would be two lifetimes’ worth of things to regret and he’d drown in them. But if he had regretted something, it would have been that he had failed to see Jaskier for what he was, when he had been young and Geralt had been… less old. He shouldn’t have blamed Jaskier for everything that had gone wrong for him that one time years ago. Or he should have apologized afterwards. He should have gone after Jaskier and begged Jaskier not to leave him, but he hadn’t, and it had taken him ages to realize that had been another mistake. He could have been the one to have a life with Jaskier. He was almost certain that Jaskier had loved him enough, even back then. He didn’t have a goddamn clue why, though.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier was saying now, “Geralt, come on, you can come for me, you can come –“  
  
He came with a grunt, his eyes closed and Jaskier’s hands in his hair.  
  
“I missed you so much when you were away,” Jaskier said, so quietly Geralt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that or not. Jaskier seemed to forget sometimes that Geralt had an excellent hearing.  
  
“I missed you, too,” he said. He let go of his dick and wiped his hand clean on the damp cloth. Then he leaned the back of his head against Jaskier’s shoulder. “It’s the best part of going away, to have someone to miss.”  
  
“That wasn’t very romantic,” Jaskier said, but he sounded like he was smiling.  
  
“I wasn’t trying to be romantic,” Geralt said, closing his eyes. He wished he could sleep like this, but Jaskier would be crushed under his weight. “I was trying to tell you the truth.”  
  
“The truth,” Jaskier said, “is that you were trying to be romantic. Are you going to fall asleep on me now?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That can’t happen.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, stroking his hair again. He wondered if Jaskier ever got bored of his hair. He hoped not.  
  
“Okay,” he said and lay down on the bed. Jaskier settled himself next to him. “Can I hold you?”  
  
“I thought you were about to fall asleep.”  
  
“I can hold you when I’m sleeping.”  
  
“But then I can’t get out if I need to. You have a tight grip.”  
  
“You can wake me up.”  
  
“I won’t do that,” Jaskier said, but pressed himself against Geralt’s side anyway. Geralt put his arm around Jaskier and kissed his forehead, and then he slept.  
  
  
**  
  
  
It turned out that the work Marta wanted them to do in the garden was heavy and dirty, and Geralt couldn’t figure out why Jaskier liked it. He had never seen Jaskier as someone who wanted to have mud under his fingernails. But now Jaskier was kneeling on the ground, his hands pushed to the soil as he was trying to – Geralt didn’t even know what. He just shoveled the soil wherever Marta wanted it, because apparently the only one of his skills that was useful here was his strength.  
  
The good thing was that he didn’t need to talk. Marta told him what to do, and then he did it, and then Marta and Jaskier talked about the garden as if it was a living thing or a family member. Geralt listened to them a little lazily. It was still early in the autumn, plenty of time before winter, the wind was warm and there were birds singing on the branches that reached above him. He was too warm in his armor, and it was obvious now why Jaskier had told him not to wear it today. Then Jaskier had told him he wouldn’t need his swords, and he had glanced at Jaskier and grabbed the swords anyway. They were leaning against an old apple tree now.  
  
“So, Geralt,” Marta said later, when the three of them were sitting on the ground, looking at whatever it was that they had been making all morning. “Tell me something about Jaskier that I don’t know.”  
  
“Oh, no,” Jaskier said, “don’t do that. Geralt knows everything of me.”  
  
“I don’t,” Geralt said.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be anything dirty,” Marta said, grinning. “Just tell me what he was like when you were young.”  
  
“He was young, I wasn’t.”  
  
“Don’t tell her anything, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “She’s got my mother’s nature. She seems sweet but she’s really cunning and will use any information you give her against you the moment when you least expect it.”  
  
Geralt frowned. But Jaskier was smiling at Marta in a way he never smiled at Geralt. It was an uncomplicated smile with no history of years that had gone wrong.  
  
“You know, when I was a little girl,” Marta said, “I thought Jaskier was the most boring person in the whole world. He always _told_ that he had had plenty of adventures, that he had actually known a _witcher_ once. But he never told me more about those adventures. And he never left the town. He just lived at his tiny house with Hakil and was happy and kept writing his songs that I didn’t even like.”  
  
Geralt swallowed.  
  
“I thought you liked my songs,” Jaskier said to Marta. “Your mother told me you liked them.”  
  
“He didn’t want to disappoint you,” Marta said. “Anyway, you were very boring. I thought you had always been boring.”  
  
“I was boring and happy,” Jaskier said, and glanced at Geralt sharply as if he had just remembered Geralt was there. Geralt had a feeling that he was supposed to smile now, but he couldn’t remember how it happened.  
  
“Tell me something,” Marta said to Geralt, and there was a look in her eyes that suggested she knew Geralt was trying to smile and couldn’t. “Did you like his songs?”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I don’t know.”  
  
“He liked them,” Jaskier said in a light voice. “Anyway, maybe we should –“  
  
“They were all about me,” Geralt said and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I liked them, because they were all about me and it was a little weird. He followed me everywhere. He was like this tiny duckling that had seen me and wouldn’t let me go. And the first day, I almost got him killed. He followed me anyway.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jaskier said, but his voice was serious now.  
  
“I kept telling him that we weren’t friends,” Geralt said and reached to grab a handful of dirt. “But he told me that we were. And he was right. I just had never had a friend like that. I couldn’t tell the difference. But when I got hurt, he tried to help me. And I tried to help him, too. Once there was this party in Cintra –“  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said slowly.  
  
“And he had slept with many royal women whose husbands were pretty angry at him –“  
  
“ _Geralt_ ,” Jaskier said, “Marta is only twenty-two years old, she doesn’t need to hear about that –“  
  
“Women?” Marta asked.  
  
“And he wanted me to come there with him to keep the cuckolds away from him. I did. He didn’t even pay me. And I didn’t mind. We… we were friends.”  
  
“I didn’t sleep with _many_ royal women,” Jaskier said to Marta.  
  
“But did you like women, too?” Marta asked. “Or were you in denial?”  
  
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Jaskier said and then took a deep breath. “I definitely liked women, and I was in denial. But Geralt was very pretty that day.”  
  
“You were very pretty,” Geralt said.  
  
“That’s so romantic,” Marta said. “You two have a long history and then, after all that time, you ended up together. That’s so lucky. What if you hadn’t met ever again? What a waste.”  
  
Geralt looked at Jaskier. Jaskier took a deep breath and looked at him, his eyes weary and a little sad. Neither of them clearly wanted to tell Marta that they were bitter about not doing this earlier and for different reasons.  
  
“Anyway, I want to get rid of the apple tree that died last spring,” Marta said. “We’re going to dig it up. Geralt, you can do that, you’re the only one who can.”  
  
Geralt threw a glance at Jaskier and stood up, and then he held his hand out until Jaskier took it.  
  
  
**  
  
  
When Geralt had been living in Jaskier’s family house for a little over a week, there was a rumor about something stealing dogs and cats in a village not far away. It took him one night to find the beast and slay it. He slept under the sky but only for a few hours, and early in the morning, he started riding back home. He arrived before midday, and Jaskier kissed him at the front door even though the neighbors were watching.  
  
“Don’t they mind?” Geralt asked when they were upstairs in their room.  
  
Jaskier shook his head. “They’ve known me for a long time. They can’t be surprised that I’m kissing a man.” He paused for a second. “Well, they’re probably surprised because you’re so… you. But that’s only going to make them wonder how the hell I managed to get you.”  
  
“You shouldn’t, though.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “What?”  
  
“You shouldn’t wonder how you managed to get me. I’ve always been yours. I was just an idiot.”  
  
“Geralt, that’s not necessary.”  
  
“I’ve been thinking about our problem,” Geralt said. He could as well say it now, because Jaskier would get upset anyway, no matter when he did it. And he had asked around when he had been on his way back. There was a mage in the town, and she wasn’t supposed to be particularly bad.  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “ _My_ problem. Do we have to –“  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “Sorry. And it’s _our_ problem.”  
  
Jaskier stood up and straightened his back, and then looked mortified when his joints cracked. Geralt ignored that. He was twice as old as Jaskier, and he had told the idiot plenty of times that he didn’t want to hear Jaskier talking about himself like he was too old for Geralt.  
  
“Do you want to try a charm?” he asked.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Why not?” Geralt asked. “Because I hear that they’re pretty good. It might be possible that I could do it for you. They’re simple magic.”  
  
“You’ve thought about this,” Jaskier said. He didn’t seem to be able to decide if he wanted to look at Geralt or at anything else.  
  
“I know you’re sad because you can’t come when we sleep together,” Geralt said, “and I’m sad because I can’t give you what you want.”  
  
“That’s not going to fix it.”  
  
“Of course it is. It’s not a difficult charm. And it’s supposed to feel real –“  
  
“I want it to be real,” Jaskier said, his voice sharp now. He took a step towards Geralt and stopped again. “I _need_ it to be real. I don’t want to fake it.”  
  
“That’s not _faking it_ ,” Geralt said, “that’s just… help.”  
  
“I don’t want _help_ to sleep with my husband,” Jaskier said. “I want –,“ And then he fell quiet.  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. “That’s hardly news, Jaskier.”  
  
Jaskier shook his head. “We aren’t married. We are…”  
  
“We could as well be,” Geralt said. “You can call me your husband if you want to. And I’ll call you mine.”  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath, then walked to him and hovered in front of him. He made certain he looked up when he fixed his eyes on Jaskier’s.  
  
“Do you want me to try the charm?” Jaskier asked in a small voice.  
  
“Not unless you want to,” Geralt said. “I just thought you might.”  
  
Jaskier nodded. “I’ll… think about it.”  
  
“Don’t do it for me.”  
  
“I do everything for you,” Jaskier said, then sat down next to him. The mattress shifted. Geralt leaned to Jaskier until their arms brushed together. “I don’t think it matters much to me that I can’t come,” Jaskier said, looking at his knees. “It’s just that it makes me feel broken, and I hate that.”  
  
“I don’t see you that way.”  
  
“That’s exactly what you would say if you saw me that way,” Jaskier said, then leaned his elbows against his knees and hid his face in his palms. “Goddamn. I feel like I’m never going to be enough for you. Objectively speaking.”  
  
“Well, you _are_ an idiot,” Geralt said. “I’m jealous of your man.”  
  
Jaskier glanced at him. “What?”  
  
“Hakil. I’m jealous of him because he got to live with you when I wasn’t there.”  
  
“Geralt”, Jaskier said softly, “that’s just stupid. That’s in the past. There’s no more point in regretting that than there’s, I don’t know, in regretting that we split all those years ago.”  
  
“Well, I regret that, too.” Geralt shook his head. “And you regret that now that we are finally together, you are different than when you were in the past. When I wasn’t with you.”  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “Well, it does sound a little silly.”  
  
Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and patted him on the arm.  
  
“I wish you wouldn’t be jealous of Hakil,” Jaskier said.  
  
“I can’t help it.”  
  
“Just so that you know, I can love two people in the same life. Easily. I used so much love in him and I still have so much for you.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”  
  
“You did nothing. That’s love.” Jaskier patted him on the knee. “We’re going have to stop talking about this now or else I’m going to cry.”  
  
“I never cry.”  
  
Jaskier laughed at him, and he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulders against his side.  
  
“Garet asked me if I could help the kids today,” Jaskier said. “They’re trying to learn to play lute. It’s awful. I should probably go. Do you want to come?”  
  
“Who’s Garet?”  
  
“My nephew,” Jaskier said, “the one who lives in the red house.”  
  
Geralt nodded. “Can I not to? I have to make potions, and besides, I don’t think…”  
  
“Listening to kids playing a lute isn’t your thing,” Jaskier said. “That’s okay. I kind of guessed it. I’ll see you later, then.”  
  
Geralt watched as Jaskier left the room. It wasn’t a big room. There was the bed he was sitting on, and a table, and a few chairs, and a bathtub, and a window with a view over the town. He walked to the window and watched over the rooftops. It was beginning to rain.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Someone knocked on the door. Geralt straightened his back from where he had been sitting at the table, trying to decide which ingredients he should try to collect before winter and which could wait for another spring.  
  
“Come in,” he said. Surely Jaskier wouldn’t have knocked. But it was difficult to understand who else -  
  
It was Marta.  
  
“Good, you’re back,” she said, as if she was looking for Geralt and not Jaskier. “I have a problem.”  
  
Geralt blinked.  
  
“I have this huge old wardrobe, very nice but heavier than a horse, and I want to move it to the other side of the room. Can you help me?”  
  
Geralt wasn’t sure if he had ever tried lifting up a horse. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Well, let’s go and see,” Marta said and then hovered in the doorway, looking around. “What do you think of the room?”  
  
Geralt glanced around. “It’s very…” It was a room.  
  
“Yeah,” Marta said, nodding. “I know what you mean. Nice but not too much space. Do you miss sleeping outdoors?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said.  
  
“No?”  
  
“It’s not…” He paused. Marta was still looking at him like she wanted to hear more. Not in a bad way, though, but more like… like she thought that whatever he was going to tell would be interesting. “It’s just something I do,” Geralt said slowly, standing up and walking to her. There was something in her eyes that reminded him of Jaskier. Maybe that was because they were family. How odd. “When I go to hunt monsters, I don’t usually have a choice. And it’s always a relief when I get to sleep inside again. In a bed.” He glanced at the bed. The blankets were pushed to his side. It was weird to think about Jaskier alone in it, sleeping without Geralt, like last night. “It doesn’t rain inside,” he said. “And company is better.”  
  
“I think I would like to travel,” Marta said, “but when I really think about it, it seems so inconvenient that I keep putting it off.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “Maybe you’re wiser than me, then.”  
  
“But I think it’s about what we’re used to,” Marta said and then started walking through the hallway. Geralt followed her, because apparently that was what he was supposed to do. “I’m used to living here. Maybe it’s not only that it’d be inconvenient, maybe it’s that the _ways_ in which it would be inconvenient are new to me.”  
  
“Hmm,” Geralt said and followed Marta downstairs.  
  
“Anyway, here’s the wardrobe,” Marta said and pushed the door open to her room. It was smaller than Geralt and Jaskier’s but there was more light, and next to the wardrobe she was staring at with a frown, there was a bookshelf.  
  
“You read.”  
  
“Yes, well,” Marta said, glancing at him, “I know I’m lucky. My family is rich so I don’t really _need_ to worry about getting myself married, and I can concentrate on other things.”  
  
“Like reading.”  
  
“Yeah. I’m just guessing here, but I bet it’s ten times better than being married.” She smiled wryly. “No offense.”  
  
“We aren’t married,” Geralt said and walked to the bookshelf. Jaskier didn’t have one. Maybe Jaskier would have liked a bookshelf and just didn’t know how to tell Geralt.  
  
“Would you, if you could?” Marta said in a light but curious tone. “Would you marry Jaskier?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, reading the titles.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes. If he wanted me to.” He bent down to see the books in the lower shelves.  
  
“I’m glad. He’s my favorite uncle.” Marta paused. “Well, actually he’s my granduncle, I guess. How old are you, Geralt?”  
  
“Old enough.”  
  
“What was it like before?”  
  
Geralt swallowed and then looked over his shoulder. She was looking at him like she was expecting an answer. “What?”  
  
“When I read about the past hundred years and more, all those things that happened seem so distant. But you were there. You’ve actually _seen_ the world changing.”  
  
“That’s…” Geralt took a deep breath, straightened his back and nodded at the wardrobe. “Is this it? Where do you want it?”  
  
Marta pointed at the opposite wall. “And there’s barely anything besides wars and famines and kings and stuff like that in my books. I want to know how people _lived._ I want to know what it was like. You know.”  
  
Geralt walked to the wardrobe and tried to lift it. It wasn’t as heavy as a horse, but he had to concentrate anyway. “I don’t know anything about that.”  
  
“Yes, you do, you were there,” Marta said, following in his footsteps as he half-carried and half-dragged the wardrobe to the other side of the room. “Thank you.”  
  
He leaned his hand against the wardrobe and breathed in and out. “Is this fine?”  
  
“Yes, it’s exactly where I wanted it,” Marta said, “and really, it would’ve taken at least three of my cousins to lift that up if you hadn’t done it. So, I’m very thankful. Do you want tea?”  
  
Geralt blinked. “What?”  
  
“Tea. I have cinnamon, and vanilla, and lemon –“  
  
“Jaskier’s horse is called Cinnamon.”  
  
“Yeah,” Marta said, walking to the hearth and starting to boil the water. “I can’t understand who names his horse _Cinnamon._ It’s a name a five-year-old would give to a puppy.”  
  
“Yes, exactly,” Geralt said, walked to the nearest chair and sat down. The chair creaked.  
  
“Don’t worry about that, it was already broken,” Marta said, glancing over her shoulder. “But I guess he’s always been like that. When I was six, my Mom gave me a cat, and Jaskier told me I should call her Buttercup.”  
  
“ _Buttercup?_ ”  
  
“Yes,” Marta said, waving her hand. “Can you imagine? He insisted that the cat looked like Buttercup. I decided to call her Doom instead.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip.  
  
“But my mom told me not to, so I named her Cat. I thought it was supposed to be a revenge for both her and Jaskier. But the point is -,” she smiled at Geralt and didn’t seem to even notice that Geralt couldn’t figure out how to smile back, “the point is that Jaskier called that cat _Buttercup_ until the day she died.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said and cleared his throat.  
  
“Yes,” Marta said, “yes, and then he wrote a song about _Buttercup._ A song about the sweetest cat that had ever lived. He wrote it because he knew I was sad and thought that would cheer me up, and it kind of did, because I couldn’t believe what kind of an idiot would write a sappy song about a cat that had just died and not call her by her real name. Is lemon alright? For your tea?”  
  
Geralt nodded. Marta brought him a cup of tea and put it in his hands, and then took the nearest chair and sat down in it. He took a sip of his tea, but it was very hot.  
  
“Anyway, Hakil got ill soon after that,” Marta said, her voice serious now. “And then he died. I was thirteen years old. It was terrible. I didn’t know what to do, of course not, no one does when something like that happens. But he had written me a song when my cat had died, so I wrote him a song when his partner died.” Marta shook his head. “The song was awful. It was so much worse than _Buttercup, the Sweetest Cat Who Ever Lived._ Jaskier cried when I sang it to him, and it took me a few years to realize that he wasn’t crying because the song was bad.”  
  
“That’s…”  
  
“Yeah,” Marta said. “Is your tea fine?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“What was he like?”  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
“Hakil.”  
  
Marta opened his mouth and then closed it again. Geralt held his breath. He knew he shouldn’t have asked. But he was sitting here with a cup of tea in his hands and it was obvious that he couldn’t just walk away, and Marta didn’t seem to mind talking to him.  
  
“Well,” Marta said slowly, “I don’t remember the time when they weren’t together. So, I always knew him. He was… he was quiet, but not the same way than you are.”  
  
Geralt frowned. “What does that mean?”  
  
“You aren’t comfortable around people,” Marta said, shrugging, “he was. He liked people but he didn’t like talking. He was a scholar of some kind, physics and mathematics, I think. We have all his books in our cellar. His family didn’t like Jaskier, so he only saw them like a few times in the years they were together, I think. And they didn’t ask for his things after he died.”  
  
“They didn’t like Jaskier?”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Marta said, shaking his head, “those stupid assholes. But I think it was more that Jaskier was a man than about his… personality. They blamed Jaskier when it became obvious that Hakil would never marry a woman.” Marta glanced at Geralt and smiled a little. “He wasn’t anything like you.”  
  
“Really?” Geralt asked. It was almost like he was relieved and disappointed at the same time. He drank a bit more of his tea.  
  
“The only thing in common that I can figure out is that neither of you talk much and that Jaskier loved you both. _Loves_ you, I mean. Did you know that they met in the university?”  
  
Geralt shook his head.  
  
“Jaskier was giving lectures about songwriting. Apparently, Hakil came to talk to him one night in the tavern, about his lectures or something, and they got into a quarrel because Jaskier thought Hakil was cocky and didn’t respect arts. But Hakil told me Jaskier had been cocky and also a little frightened, because it had been obvious Hakil was interested in him.”  
  
“Frightened?”  
  
“Or nervous. I don’t know. But that’s how they became friends and then lovers.” Martha paused. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, staring at his tea. “I’m jealous.” Then he filled his mouth with tea. Why the hell had he said that? Marta was a little girl, only twenty-two years old, surely she didn’t need to hear about Geralt’s stupid _feelings._ She probably thought he was ridiculous, and she was right about that.  
  
He took a deep breath and glanced at Martha. She was looking at her with something gentle in her eyes.  
  
“You can always ask me,” she said, “if there’s something you’re curious about and you don’t want to talk to Jaskier.”  
  
Geralt nodded. “Why are you…” But he couldn’t figure out what he had been going to say.  
  
“Well, I wanted to see if you could lift the wardrobe,” Marta said and grinned at him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Jaskier came to tell Geralt that they could have dinner at Garet’s house if they wanted to. Geralt told him that was fine and he looked a little surprised but didn’t ask.  
  
“If you had a cat,” Geralt said when they about to leave for the dinner, “what would you call it?”  
  
Jaskier looked confused. “I don’t know. Why? Do you want a cat?”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Geralt said and then thought about it. He didn’t have anything against cats. But he would have to make sure he was the one to name the cat. “I helped Marta to move a wardrobe.”  
  
“Oh?” Jaskier said and then blinked. “ _That_ wardrobe? The one she’s been talking about moving since she was ten? You could _lift_ that?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “She made me tea.”  
  
“Oh, bloody hell.”  
  
“It was nice,” Geralt said.  
  
This time, he left his swords in their room. He was quite certain he wouldn’t need them at the dinner. He ignored the way Jaskier smiled at him and asked him about the playing lessons instead, and Jaskier went pale and said he didn’t want to talk about it.  
  
The dinner was alright. There were children and one of them was sitting next to Geralt. He tried to ignore the kid, but the kid was very interested in his hair. It was obvious that these were Jaskier’s relatives. He told the kid that no, he hadn’t dyed his hair, and no, it didn’t glow in the dark, and yes, he combed it once in a while, and no, it didn’t attract flies. He didn’t say that what his hair attracted instead were Jaskier’s fingers, but he thought about it, and from the way Jaskier was looking at him, he supposed Jaskier was thinking about it, too.  
  
“Why are you so big?” the kid asked him, when they were eating dessert.  
  
“I’m a mutant,” he said.  
  
“A what?” kid asked.  
  
“A…” He cleared his throat and gave up.  
  
“That’s a special kind of a person who can do stuff that the rest of us can’t,” Jaskier said from over the table. “Did you know that Geralt lifted Marta’s wardrobe today?”  
  
All the children at the table turned to look at Geralt with wide eyes.  
  
“It was pretty heavy,” Geralt said. He didn’t want to boast.  
  
“He’s my man,” Jaskier said, looking happy, and Garet’s wife Neila smiled to her glass of water. One of the children started making kissing noises.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“That was nice,” Geralt said, when they were back in their room. He walked to the bed, sat down and then realized Jaskier was looking at him oddly. “What?”  
  
“It _was_ nice,” Jaskier said. “I just… really? You thought it was nice?”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“Even though Leir asked you if your hair glows in the dark?”  
  
“It was a sensible thing to ask,” Geralt said and then smiled a little. “It was nice, Jaskier.”  
  
“Good. That’s… It would make me so happy if you actually liked them. I know you’re doing this for me, but…”  
  
“Don’t’,” Geralt said, tilting his head to the side and looking at Jaskier, who closed the door and then just stood there. “I want to be here, too.”  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice.  
  
“Well, you should.”  
  
“Marta told me you asked about Hakil.”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath.  
  
“You could ask me, if you wanted to.”  
  
“It’s… I don’t want you to see that I’m jealous. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”  
  
Jaskier was silent for a long time, then walked to him and sat on the bed next to him. “Well, thank god for Marta.”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“Did you know,” Jaskier said slowly, “that when she was a kid, like, maybe four years old or something, she wanted to name her cat _Doom?_ Who the hell calls her cat _Doom?_ ”  
  
Geralt bit his lip and didn’t smile.  
  
  
**  
  
  
That evening, he lay on his back as Jaskier knelt over him and brought him off with his hand. He had his hand on Jaskier’s thigh and he didn’t know which one of them was shaking, or both. When he was about to come, Jaskier told him his hair actually glowed in the dark, and he pushed Jaskier at the chest but it was too late. He was coming, and Jaskier was smiling at him as if he was the most adorable thing in the whole world.  
  
It took him a while to catch his breath, but when he did, Jaskier was already there in his arms, kissing his neck and saying he was sorry about the hair thing.  
  
“You should be sorry,” Geralt said, his eyes closed, his fingers stroking Jaskier’s hair lazily. “You insulted my hair at my weakest moment.”  
  
“That wasn’t your _weakest moment_ ,” Jaskier said softly, then took a deep breath. “Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“We could try the charm.”  
  
Geralt peered one eye open. Jaskier turned his gaze away.  
  
“For my… for our problem.”  
  
“Yeah, I understood,” he said and stroked the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Okay.”  
  
“Just… don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work.” Jaskier bit his lip. “Or if I don’t want to do it again.”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“And don’t tell Marta.”  
  
“I would never.”  
  
“I can’t believe you moved that wardrobe,” Jaskier said in a hoarse voice and kissed Geralt’s neck. “We’ve been wondering if the wardrobe was built at the same time with the house, because there’s absolutely no way anyone could have carried it inside. I can’t believe I have a boyfriend who could lift that wardrobe.”  
  
“He sounds like a smug bastard,” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier closer to him.  
  
“I knew you were strong, but I never knew you were _that_ strong.”  
  
Geralt snorted.  
  
“It’s pretty impressive that you kill monsters for living, but nothing compared to lifting that wardrobe.”  
  
“Will you shut up already?”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me you like cats?”  
  
“Good night, Jaskier,” Geralt said, kissed him on the top of his head and closed his eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He learned the children’s names. He didn’t particularly like it when the children talked to him, so it was probably for the best that they were a little afraid of him, except for Leir who still had a fixation with his hair. Sometimes when Geralt worked in Marta’s garden, Leir followed him around and stared at his hair, and he wondered for the first time if he ought to cut it. But Jaskier would have never forgiven him, so he didn’t.  
  
The more he moved soil around in the garden and dug things up and put them back, the better he liked it. He wished it would have been the spring already and he could have seen things growing. Marta told him stories about the trees in the garden, about the winters that had been bad for them and the summers that had been nice, and about the one time when there had been so many apples in one apple tree that it had been difficult to walk around it without stepping on one. He envied her for the stories.  
  
Once, Marta had a few friends visiting, and she asked Geralt to join them. Jaskier was baking an apple cake with Neila, so Geralt didn’t really have an excuse. Marta gave him a cup of tea and had him sitting in a wobbling chair in between two young women whose names he forgot immediately, but it didn’t seem to matter much. Marta’s friends wanted to hear about the towns he had visited and the roads he had travelled. None of them seemed particularly interested in hearing about monsters. And later, when they talked about books he hadn’t read, no one seemed offended when he forgot to listen for a moment. Also, the tea was very nice.  
  
It took him a few weeks to go to see the town’s mage. He was away for three nights when there was a vampire in the small village on the mountains a day’s ride away from home, and when he got back, Jaskier was looking at him a little oddly. He realized only when they were in bed that Jaskier had thought he would get the charm when he was out of town. He didn’t say anything about it, but the next day, he searched for the mage and met him in a grim little shop he had next to the blacksmith.  
  
The mage didn’t understand right away what Geralt was asking. Then he seemed to understand but thought it was for Geralt himself, only it looked like he didn’t believe that, and Geralt had to explain to him frustratingly slowly that his lover, who was also a man, had this problem. But he got the charm in the end, and he told the mage that if the man blabbered about this, Geralt would make him sorry. It was good that he had taken his swords with him.  
  
“I have it,” he told Jaskier that night in bed. “I have the charm.”  
  
Jaskier went still in his arms. “I was wondering when you were going to get it.”  
  
“I got it today.”  
  
“So, does that mean that I don’t have to…”  
  
“It’s a simple charm. I can cast it. We don’t have to go anywhere.”  
  
“Good.” Jaskier cleared his throat. His palm was resting heavily on Geralt’s chest. Geralt took his hand in his and squeezed lightly. “Have you thought about… about what we’re going to do?”  
  
“We can do anything you want.”  
  
“I want you to have fucked me,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “twenty years ago.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip, then rearranged them so that Jaskier was lying on his side and he was pressed against Jaskier’s back, his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist. He kissed the back of Jaskier’s neck and then said: “We can’t do that.”  
  
“Yeah. So, something else.”  
  
“If you still want me to –“  
  
“I think that’s too much now.”  
  
“I just hope I can bring you off,” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier as close as possible. “I don’t care about the details. Do you want to fuck me?”  
  
“Could I?”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth.  
  
“I mean, would you let me? Would you want me to?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Have you, ever? Before?”  
  
“Once or twice,” Geralt said, “a long time ago. With men I didn’t much care for, except for their bodies.”  
  
“But you liked it.”  
  
“I think I’m going to like anything I do with you if you’re enjoying it.” He was silent for a moment. “Or you could have my hand, or my mouth. Or we could just, I don’t know, not plan it and see what happens.”  
  
“You’re going to have to cast the charm,” Jaskier said, shifting in Geralt’s arms. “It’s not going to be a very spontaneous occasion anyway. Geralt?”  
  
He kissed the back of Jaskier’s neck.  
  
“I think I want to fuck you,” Jaskier said, his voice barely audible.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Not tonight, though.”  
  
Geralt wrapped his arms tighter around Jaskier’s body. “No. That would’ve been… a bit sudden.”  
  
He more felt than heard Jaskier laughing a little. “Are you nervous about it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Of course I’m nervous.”  
  
“ _I_ should be nervous.”  
  
“Well, then,” he said, “we can both be nervous, if you want. That’s fine with me.”  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said. “I think I’m going to fall asleep soon.”  
  
“Good,” Geralt said. “Good night.”  
  
But they both stayed awake for a little longer. He felt Jaskier’s heartbeat against his hands and Jaskier stroked his wrist with his fingertips, and the wind was whining in the walls.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Jaskier looked at him differently. The next morning, when he was doing the laces of his tunic, he glanced over his shoulder and caught Jaskier watching him – it was nothing odd, really, only the way Jaskier turned his gaze away. And then, after a while, his eyes returned to Geralt, fixing onto Geralt’s eyes as if he was trying to ask if it was okay. Geralt did the rest of the laces as slowly as he could.  
  
They helped Marta in the garden in the afternoon. She talked about a poem she had read and Jaskier answered her but kept glancing at Geralt. He pretended he didn’t notice but knew that Jaskier knew that he did. He pulled the rocks off the ground where Marta wanted to make a new bench for flowers, and then he carried them across the yard. It was a warm day considering that summer was over by now. He took off his tunic and did the rest of the work in his undergarment, and Jaskier’s gaze was like an extra layer of warmth on his skin. At least Marta didn’t notice what they were doing, or so he thought until she winked at him over Jaskier’s shoulder.  
  
He bit his lip and looked at her. “Is there something else I could lift up for you?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Marta said, her face all serious now. “I’ve kind of considered that maybe that bench should go over there, you see, under the apple tree. It would be nice to sit there and look at the garden.”  
  
“Certainly,” Geralt said and didn’t look at Jaskier.  
  
“It’s going to be heavy, though,” Marta said. “I don’t know if you can lift it.”  
  
“I will try,” Geralt said, rolled his sleeves to his elbows and went to the bench. It was heavy. He waited until he couldn’t stand the weight of Jaskier’s eyes on his back anymore, and then he pulled the bench up from the ground and carried it to the apple tree. When he finally let go of it, he was sweating and out of breath. He closed his eyes for a second. if Jaskier was still looking at him…  
  
He turned.  
  
Jaskier was still looking at him.  
  
“Nice,” Marta said. “You really are very strong, Geralt. Thank you for showing that.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” he said.  
  
“Now, I think Jaskier is going to be late from teaching the kids to play the lute,” Marta said, turning to Jaskier, “or have you given up on that already?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and blinked, “yes, no, _shit._ I’m late. I’m sorry but I have to –“  
  
“Go,” Marta said. She and Geralt watched together as Jaskier rushed to the street and then to the next house. Geralt let out a deep sigh. He needed something to drink, and a damp cloth to wipe his face with, and maybe a quick wank.  
  
“What’s the foreplay for?” Marta asked, her voice all innocence.  
  
Geralt snorted. “Foreplay?”  
  
Marta glared at him. “He thinks you’re so hot. The two of you are almost embarrassing to watch.”  
  
“I love him,” Geralt said. “Thank you for the bench.”  
  
“Anytime,” Marta said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They took the horses for a ride that afternoon. It was weird, riding just for fun and not to get somewhere, but Roach was getting restless in the stable and in their tiny pasture, and Cinnamon was getting fat. And it was nice to be with Jaskier without having to talk. They rode out of the town and onto a hill that had a view over the vales and forests. Geralt watched the view and felt on his skin that Jaskier was watching him.  
  
“This is almost like in the old days,” Jaskier said before they turned the horses back home.  
  
It was late when they got home. They unsaddled the horses and brushed them, and Geralt noticed vaguely he was trying to linger with Roach a little, checking her hooves and rubbing her neck. Jaskier was quiet when they walked to the house, and Geralt was tired and also a little nervous and a little bit frustrated about himself, because he didn’t _know_ if Jaskier wanted to fuck him tonight, did he? It was just that the thought was on his mind and Jaskier had been staring at him from the morning. He didn’t want to expect something that wasn’t going to happen and he didn’t want to be disappointed if it didn’t.  
  
But when they were finally in their room and the door was locked and the bath was ready and Geralt started pulling off his clothes, Jaskier was staring at him again.  
  
He slowed his movements. Jaskier let out a short breath, then sat down in the chair and started undressing slowly, without taking his eyes from Geralt.  
  
“Really?” Geralt asked. His voice was low and hoarse but he couldn’t help it. “You’re looking at me like you haven’t seen me before.”  
  
“Shut up and take off your clothes.”  
  
“You’re making me nervous.”  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said, but there was a soft look in his eyes.  
  
“I feel like I’ve been sweating through my clothes all day,” Geralt said. “You need to let me take a bath first.”  
  
Jaskier nodded and then swallowed, when Geralt tugged his trousers to his knees and kicked them off. “Geralt? How does it work? The charm?”  
  
Geralt looked at him. “It’s going to make you forget your dick doesn’t work.”  
  
“I can hardly believe that.”  
  
“We’ll see how it works,” Geralt said. “There’re other ways for you to fuck me, you know.”  
  
“I don’t…” Jaskier took a deep breath, then pulled off his tunic and walked to Geralt. “I can’t believe we’re talking about me fucking you.”  
  
“I saw you looking at me in the garden today.”  
  
“I saw you seeing me look at you,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. “Tell me, how far you think you could carry me if you had to?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “To Rinde.”  
  
Jaskier grinned slowly. “Who taught you to flirt?”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“That’s not possible. You’re better than I ever was.”  
  
“Marta thinks you think I am hot,” Geralt said.  
  
Now Jaskier laughed. “What? How do you know?”  
  
“She told me.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“Today,” Geralt said, “when you were staring at me in the garden.”  
  
He wanted to kiss Jaskier so badly, but Jaskier wasn’t moving so he didn’t want to move either. It was difficult to believe that he could make Jaskier smile like that. Jaskier was good with words, not he. Jaskier knew how to love someone and live with someone, he didn’t.  
  
“Well,” Jaskier said with a soft smile, “she’s a smart girl. And I couldn’t hide it very well. I wish you could know what you looked like, back there.”  
  
“You’ve always thought too much of me,” Geralt said, “always.” Then he took off the rest of his clothes, folded them and put on the nearest chair. He kept his back turned to Jaskier for a moment more than was necessary, and when he looked at Jaskier again, Jaskier’s gaze returned slowly onto his face. “Let me go to the bath now, Jaskier.”  
  
Jaskier nodded, then watched him, then finished undressing and followed him. The bathtub seemed smaller than usually, and it had always been small.  
  
“I want to touch you,” Geralt said. “If you’re going to fuck me, I want to touch you first.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said. “After you cast the charm.”  
  
“Could I -,” Geralt paused. “Would you let me touch you before, too? With no expectations. You don’t need to get hard. You don’t need to come. That’s for later.”  
  
“If you want to,” Jaskier said, but he sounded wary.  
  
“Now,” Geralt said, “in the bath. I want you in my arms and I want to touch you. Can I?”  
  
Jaskier licked his lips and nodded, and then just sat still and stared as Geralt crawled closer to him, reached to him over their knees, held him by his shoulders and turned him. He pulled Jaskier against his chest slowly, one of his hands on Jaskier’s shoulder and the other on Jaskier’s chest, until he had Jaskier sitting in between his legs, shivering and nervous and not under any charm.  
  
“You’re perfect,” he said and kissed Jaskier’s neck.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier said. He sounded worried and a little out of breath.  
  
“I can’t help it,” Geralt said. “I’m in love.” Then he ran his palm down on Jaskier’s chest and stomach, slowly but with clear intent. He wasn’t going to be coy about it this time. They both knew what was going to happen. He kept Jaskier in place with the hand on his shoulder, and lowered his other hand until he could take Jaskier’s cock in his hand. Everything in Jaskier was hard lines except for his cock.  
  
“Come on, Geralt,” Jaskier said in a strained voice. “That won’t work. I’m no good.”  
  
“I’m not waiting for it to _work_ ,” Geralt said, “I want to touch you and I’m touching you. Do you want me to stop?”  
  
Jaskier shook his head. Geralt kissed his neck, the stubble on his throat, the corner of his mouth. Then he reached lower in between Jaskier’s thighs. “Can I –“  
  
“Not inside, Geralt.”  
  
“I figured.” He kissed Jaskier’s temple. “I’ll just… touch you. If you let me.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said, but there was something new in his voice, like a breath he was slowly letting out. He sat still in Geralt’s arms and Geralt touched him, lower and lower, drew a light line under his thighs, then took his cock in his hand again. It had been a year since they had met in the woods and chose to live together in a few short conversations that had turned into months and months of silences. Everything had taken so long after that, and he felt like that was the only way they had been able to do it, to do anything to each other – there was so much past in between them that the only way to have a future was to slowly, slowly reach for it. And maybe it was stupid for him to be so happy about a thing like this: that he finally got to hold Jaskier’s cock in his hand and not have Jaskier push him away.  
  
“You’re hard,” Jaskier said in a breathless voice.  
  
Geralt kissed his shoulder.  
  
“You wash me,” Jaskier said, “and I wash you, and then we get out of the bath and fuck. Alright?”  
  
  
**  
  
  
Geralt cast the charm when they were in bed, Jaskier lying on his back and Geralt kneeling over him. Jaskier bit his lip and looked at him with worried eyes, and he wanted to tell that it was going to be okay, it wouldn’t hurt, but he was afraid he would sound ridiculous. Besides, he was nervous and couldn’t hide it, or didn’t want to, and his arms resting on the mattress beside Jaskier’s face were trembling a little, and he wished they would have put out the candles, because he couldn’t bear the way Jaskier was watching him. He whispered the words to Jaskier’s neck and then, when he fixed his gaze onto Jaskier’s eyes again, Jaskier was watching him with a surprise on his face.  
  
“I didn’t think –,” Jaskier said and swallowed the rest.  
  
He stayed on his back in the bed for a while longer, letting Geralt take him in his hand and stroke him slowly. The tiny noises he made went straight through Geralt’s skin and through years of growing colder to everything and anyone, and all he cared about now was that Jaskier was enjoying this, Jaskier liked the touch of his fingers, Jaskier was going to come in his hand -  
  
Only that didn’t happen. Jaskier stopped his hand by grabbing his wrist, then gave himself a couple of strokes and took a deep breath. “I want you on your back.”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“Now,” Jaskier said and climbed over him as he did what Jaskier had asked. He sprawled his knees, and Jaskier sat down in between his legs, ignored his cock and touched him. Jaskier’s fingertips were cold and foreign against the warm flesh, and he breathed in and out, in and out, as Jaskier pushed one finger into him so slowly he thought he was going mad with it.  
  
“I’m not going to break,” he said.  
  
“Don’t rush me, Geralt,” Jaskier said. And Jaskier was probably right. Geralt could have broken easily. He listened to his own heartbeat growing inside his head as Jaskier pushed inside the second finger, then the third, then grabbed Geralt’s waist and pulled him closer until he was resting in Jaskier’s lap. He leaned against his elbows and tried to make the angle right, because he was going to make this happen, he was, and there was no way something as simple as Jaskier’s joints would stop them now. He was going to make this happen. He waited and waited and then, finally, Jaskier pushed into him in one slow move.  
  
“Alright?” Jaskier asked. His voice was trembling.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said and swallowed. “You?”  
  
“So far,” Jaskier said. “Geralt, I can’t move. How do I…”  
  
“Wait,” Geralt said and then pushed himself up until he was sitting in Jaskier’s lap, Jaskier’s dick deep inside him. He leaned his palm against the wall behind Jaskier’s back, and then he pulled off and back in, the whole way.  
  
Jaskier moaned in a broken sound.  
  
“Too much?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, his fingers digging into Geralt’s back. “Just… it won’t take long.”  
  
“I don’t care,” Geralt said. “Look at me.”  
  
Jaskier looked at him.  
  
“Good. _Good._ Now, you’re going to fuck me.”  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
“Tell me not to come yet.”  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “Don’t come yet. Not yet, Geralt.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Not yet,” Jaskier said, blinking as Geralt rocked back and forth in his lap, up and down, as slowly as he could bear. “Geralt, you have to let me come first.”  
  
“Yes –“  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
Geralt wanted to kiss him, but there was no way, he would lose his balance and fall onto Jaskier and knock them both out of the bed.  
  
“Not yet,” Jaskier said, closing his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t talking to Geralt anymore. “ _Not yet_.”  
  
Geralt’s thighs ached and his knees ached and he knew he was going to ache deep inside once it was over, but he couldn’t think of it now, no, he grabbed his own cock with his left hand almost fell onto Jaskier. He was almost ready, almost ready, only -  
  
“I always loved you,” Jaskier said and then came into him, broke apart with a quiet moan, opened his eyes and looked at him. His mouth was ajar and he was trembling and going soft in Geralt. “Now. Now you can come.”  
  
Geralt tightened his own fingers around his cock and came.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
He rolled onto his side, wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist and pulled him closer.  
  
“Geralt, you did all the work,” Jaskier said. His voice was small and tired and happy.  
  
“Hmm,” Geralt said.  
  
“You did all the fucking work. I would have, I don’t know, fallen off the bed if I had even _tried_ to move.”  
  
“You had your cock in my ass, though.”  
  
Jaskier let out a shaky breath against Geralt’s throat. “So I had.”  
  
“How was it?”  
  
“Very good,” Jaskier said, his voice serious now. Geralt stroked his hair and kissed his earlobe, which happened to be the closest thing to his mouth. “I felt powerful. Even though I knew it was all you.”  
  
“You’re wrong about that.”  
  
“I’m not, really.” Jaskier took a deep breath. “Next time, I think I would like to have you in my mouth. And you could have me in yours.”  
  
“Sounds good.” Geralt closed his eyes. “Next time, you said.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“It was that good?”  
  
“It felt like a fantasy,” Jaskier said. “Not exactly real. But I… Maybe if we did something a little closer to reality.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I liked having my fingers in your ass, though.”  
  
“I noticed.” Geralt bit his lip. “Maybe you could have suggested that earlier, you know, when we were young. _Geralt, would you mind if I put my fingers into your ass_ , something like that.”  
  
“Shut up,” Jaskier said and poked Geralt at the chest with his elbow.  
  
A little later, he fell asleep in Geralt’s arms.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The next time, they stroked each other off in the bed early in the morning, and afterwards, Jaskier was looking at Geralt as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Geralt wanted to tell him that it wasn’t _luck_ , no, it was love. But he was still a little breathless.  
  
Then days passed by and turned into weeks and Jaskier didn’t mention the charm again. Geralt thought he had done something wrong, but when he finally asked, Jaskier made him cast the charm and let Geralt kneel on the floor and take him in his mouth, and later, Jaskier said that it was good. It was lovely. It was like a splendid meal, but he wasn’t really hungry. And now that he knew he could have it if he wanted, it didn’t seem so important to have it.  
  
The winds grew colder. Geralt was away for almost three weeks and came back tired and unsure how to be a person again. Jaskier undressed him and cleaned the cuts he had on his chest and his arms, kissed the bruises, then told him to sit still and stroked him off. He slept for almost ten hours and then ate half a meal and it filled him. Marta wanted to hear about the monsters and the children wanted to see him alive and Garet wanted to talk about his house’s rooftop with him even though he didn’t have a clue why, and there were friends and family who wanted to have dinners and say hello and tell him it was nice that he was alive. Mostly, he just grunted at them and couldn’t stand the company for more than ten minutes at the time, but they came back anyway.  
  
He told himself that they came back for Jaskier, they came back to him because of what he was to Jaskier. But he faltered a little, when Leir asked him with great concern in his voice why his hair was so messy. And Marta brought him tea when Jaskier was out, and this time, she didn’t ask him anything, only told him about her friends and what she had been planning for the garden.  
  
“This is a good place,” he told Jaskier that night, when they were laying in the bed, their limbs entangled together. “I’m glad we came here.”  
  
Jaskier kissed him and then stroked his hair until he fell asleep. In the morning, there was a tiny braid in his hair.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He learned all their names. Jaskier had at least twenty relatives living nearby, and when the snow came, Geralt finally knew all of them by name, knew their spouses and children and something of what they wanted of life. Jaskier had a cousin called Rosetta, who was three years older than him and considered herself much wiser, which was perhaps true, but Geralt would have never said that to Jaskier. And Jaskier’s other cousin, Aern, had two sons, who had two sons, who were all living in one house and fighting all the time, but when someone else tried to help them settle a fight, suddenly it appeared that there had been no fight at all.  
  
And there was a man called Regal living alone in a small house down the street, and even though Jaskier said Regal was his nephew, Geralt learned that wasn’t case. No one was sure what Regal was to them, but they all called him a nephew, even the children. He was forty-one years old and his house was full of ships carved of wood. Small ships, big ships, all kind of ships. He didn’t have a wife, and once when Geralt was alone with him, he said he was glad that Geralt had figured it out in the end, and that sometimes he thought he never would. It was too much of a risk, to let someone see you as you were. Then he gave one of the wooden ships to Geralt and Geralt took it home and put it on the side table. Jaskier didn’t say anything about the ship.  
  
The winter came. Geralt spent more time at home than at road, but when he was away, he thought about the ship on the side table. Sometimes he thought about the night in the woods over a year ago, when Jaskier had followed him and found him and they had sat together by the fire. They had been apart for all those years, and Geralt had never followed Jaskier, had never tried to find him. He could have. He would have. But he hadn’t.  
  
Was it that he hadn’t cared enough? Or had he really thought he would be better off alone? Or had he been too scared? Maybe he had wanted to keep the faded memory of Jaskier, the memory he could easily carry with him and make of it whatever he wanted. He could tell himself that it meant everything or that it meant nothing. He could keep everything that had been and everything that _could_ have been pushed into a tiny box that he could carry without it growing too heavy. Maybe that was the reason why he had never tried to find Jaskier.  
  
Thank god Jaskier had come for him.  
  
He still feared that one day, Jaskier would see him for what he was. But sometimes he wondered if he had got it all wrong. Maybe Jaskier had seen him all this time. Jaskier had seen him doing so many mistakes. Jaskier had forgiven him so much. If there was someone in this world who knew him, it was Jaskier.  
  
He slayed one more monster on his way back home. There was snow in his hair and his fingers were freezing, but Jaskier came to him before he even got out of the stables. He kissed Jaskier on the mouth and didn’t worry about how it all would end.

**Author's Note:**

> There's going to be at least one more one-shot to this series, but it's set pretty far in the future (and it's angst). And maybe something set far in the past as well. We'll see.


End file.
